


Good Morning

by Hobbit_Riddlebird



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: But It happens off camera, Canon Compliant, Crowley Cannot Say the 4 letter L Word, Dialogue Heavy, First Time, Fluff without Plot, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Narration by She, No Langauge, No Smut, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-20 05:04:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19370200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hobbit_Riddlebird/pseuds/Hobbit_Riddlebird
Summary: Azriphale wakes up the morning after his first time with Crowley.Rating: the T is for suggested content only. This fic contains no sexual content or strong language.





	Good Morning

**Author's Note:**

> A fluff morning after fic after the Ineffable "first time" - time is unspecified but takes place after the Armageddon('t). 
> 
> (All text like this is narration from Her.)

Aziraphale does not technically need to sleep, whenever his body needs rest he enters into a meditative trance at least once a century (or twice if the century was particularly uneventful). However he does not sleep, has never dreamed. And so it is with some confusion that he wakes in a strange bed with the weight of a wing that is not his own covering his, he realizes, very naked corporeal form.

 

Crowley! Aziraphale's heart remembers to start beating. The wing covering him, the hand at his side, the chest against his back, the leg between his belong to the fallen angel. They had… well consumated their (some would say too) long courtship the night before. Was it still the day after, he wonders. (It was not, in fact angel and fallen angel had been asleep for one entire day, two nights, and three and a half hours.)

 

The memory of the night before floods in his senses. It had been simply sublime. Definitely worth the wait, he thinks. He absolutely cannot wait to do it again (he did have six thousand years of celibacy to make up for after all) but he also does not wish to wake his… lover. The word almost makes him giggle.

 

He had first realized that what he had felt for the demon was other than the love for all of Her creatures during that ridiculous stunt in that church during mankind's (do not forget womankind, War is a woman after all) second World War. (Beings often lie to themselves without knowing that they lie and angels are no different, Aziraphale believes he fell in love with demon Crowley in that church but in fact it was on the wall in the garden of Eden, I know for I was there.)

 

Aziraphale inspects Crowley's wings. He has never seen them so close. The feathers are black but with highlights of deep purples and greens. He touches a feather, it is dense but soft to the touch. He cannot help but wonder if Crowley's wings had been this pretty before he was fallen. (They had been even prettier, dear reader. Colors like the feathers of a peacock. Or like the scales of a highly poisonous viper. He had been one of My favorite creations.)

 

Crowley stirs behind him, hugs him closer and nuzzles the back of his neck.

 

"Y'er warm, angel, like laying on a rock in the sun."

 

Aziraphale giggles at the tickle at the back of his neck. "And your nose is cold, foul demon."

 

"Then you'll just have to warm it up, won't you?" Crowley says sleepily. "You're always so warm, did you know that? Lookin' at you like lookin' at the sun, why I wear sunglasses all the time, you blind me. Heaven is too cold, Hell is too hot, but like Goldilocks's porridge you just right, angel."

 

Aziraphale laughs at him. "Are you even awake, Crowley? You're not making any sense." He turns around to face him. "You silly old demon," he tells him fondly. He traces the demon mark on his temple and softly, oh so softly, kisses him on the mouth. He still cannot believe he is now free to do so. "Good morning," he pulls away.

 

(There have been now twenty-seven and three fourths kisses between them, but Aziraphale feels he owes Crowley one kiss for every year they have not been kissing. He has five thousand nine-hundred and eighty-seven more to go, rounded up.)

 

"Do you feel any different?" Crowley sits up and searches in his eyes, looking for a hint of… something. His pupils are so large that his eyes seem to be black, and nearly but not quite human.

 

"Do you mean because you popped my apricot or in a fire and brimstone kind of way?" he teases the demon.

 

"It's cherry, Aziraphale. And you don't even have a cherry to pop… why would it be apricot?" he sighed. "Really, angel." (At this point, dear reader, you may be wondering about what the mechanics of sex between an angel and demon may entail, to which I state: It is none of our business what happens between two peoples, or in this case non-peoples, behind closed doors.) "This is hardly something to laugh about, if you fell because of me, angel, I would never forgive myself. I would… I would… turn myself into Heaven."

 

"Shush, my dear, you would do no such thing," he places his finger over his dear friend's lips. "Like I told you last night, love is never a sin, my love of you will not make me fall. And I do love you Anthony J Crowley," he swears on the words. "What we did was in love."

 

(Aziraphale does speak the truth; love between two presenting males is not a sin, even when one of them is seemingly a demon.)

 

"Not sure that's the four letter l-word I would use to describe last night," Crowley chuckles.

 

(The word Crowley is speaking of is lust, a word that demonkind has twisted into something as ugly and misshapen as themselves, lust is the mirror of love not it's reverse. And so in a manner of speaking, they are of course both correct.)

 

"You said you loved me, Crowley," Aziraphale frowns, beginning to doubt.

 

"People say all sorts of things in the heat of passion and all that, I could've said anything," he looks up at the ceiling. "Could have said I like ducks, I don't remember."

 

"I love you Aziraphale, you said my name," he insists. He blushes remembering the intimacy of the moment, Crowley's body over his, his wings sheltering them, and his own name whispered in his ear. "You don't even like ducks!"

 

"See, exactly my point," Crowley points at Aziraphale.

 

"That… that doesn't even make sense!"

 

"I am a demon," he looks down at Aziraphale, his pupils narrowed to slits. "Demons are not capable of love," his lips twist as though the word is distasteful.

 

"And I am an angel," Aziraphale faces the demon stubbornly. "I am incapable of lust."

 

(As it were, they were both wrong.)

 

"Have you… uh, done this many times before?" Aziraphale knows as an angel he should not know of jealousy, no he is not jealous, an angel would not feel jealousy. But the thought of his Crowley laying with anyone else makes him feel like he has consumed bad wine.

 

(Of course an angel cannot become drunk unless an angel wishes to. The same may be said for jealousy.)

 

"What? No. Of course not." Crowley seems insulted by the question. "Who would I with? Have you seen other demons, not exactly the type to cuddle, no?"

 

"What of humans?" Aziraphale finds the children of Adam and Eve charming but had never felt anything more than a kindly uncle would towards them. But he is well aware of what they say about demons.

 

(Truth be told, just as many, if not more, angels than demons have seduced and bedded the children of Adam and Eve but naturally this is not spoken of by angels.)

 

"Bleh," Crowley makes a face of disgust. "I may as well lay with a dog."

 

Aziraphale tends to forget that not only is Crowley a demon but his true form is that of a rather large and beautiful snake.

 

"Another snake then?" Is it possible to be jealous of a snake, he wonders.

 

"A… a snake?" Crowley laughs. "You truly are ridiculous, angel."

 

"Then are you saying… am I your first, Crowley?" he asks surprised.

 

"My first, my last," Crowley licks the angel's nose lightly. "My only."

 

Aziraphale grins. "That is the most romantic thing I have ever heard." Crowley does love him! He kisses the demon determined to test out all the interesting things Crowley can do with his tongue.

 

(And so it is here we shall leave them.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> :)


End file.
